Roses Farm, a cottage dating back to around 1285 (via).

Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984), dir. Steven Spielberg

me: i hate drama

[drama happens]

me: 

Oh hey where’d this fucking SNIPER ROUND COME FROM

Sue Bristo

where none intrudes

SUMMARY: Emma has been in love with Killian for a long time, but it takes a pandemic and eighteen hours of panic when he’s not answering his phone for her to realise it. Now they’re quarantined together and sharing a bed and she needs him to know how she feels. If only she could find a way to tell him. 

Killian has been in love with Emma for as long as he’s known her, but he knows the quickest way to send her running would be to tell her how he feels. Now he’s waking up every morning with her in his arms and all he wants is for this to be his life forever. If only he could find a way to tell her. 

-

SO here it is, the AND THEY WERE QUARANTINED fic. I realise this is a sensitive subject for some people, so please do be forewarned that there is some discussion of the coronavirus here, though it is primarily a soft and fluffy idiots-in-love story with much emoting and sharing of beds and very little angst. If you choose to read it I hope it brightens your day and helps get you thorough these challenging times. 

Copious love to @ohmightydevviepuu for stopping me from banging my head against the wall ❤️❤️❤️

-

Rating: a soft M Words: 4.7k

On AO3

-

where none intrudes: 

Killian pulled up in front of the tall brick building, slipping neatly into a parking spot he could barely believe he was lucky enough to find. Normally he had to park several blocks away from Emma’s place—his old place—and drag his loaded satchel or his groceries or now his suitcase through the streets of the neighbourhood trying not to feel self-conscious as curtains twitched in the windows as he passed. 

He whistled a little tune as he took his suitcase out of the trunk, his heart racing in anticipation of seeing Emma again. It had been far too long. Just over a year ago he’d moved to Chicago for a job opportunity far too good to turn down, and since then he’d only managed to see her twice. The last time was Christmas, when they’d both been so busy with the rest of their friends and their family obligations that they’d barely had an hour together to catch up. 

Killian wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than it had been before, when they’d lived across the hall and had seen each other every day, spending most evenings at one or the other of their apartments cooking together and watching TV. As much as he missed just hanging out with Emma—as much as he missed her—he didn’t miss the ache of longing that had pretty much permanently taken up residence just below his heart. It was less acute in Chicago, or maybe it was just different—an ache born more of missing than of wishing—wishing for things he knew could never be his. 

He dragged his suitcase up the steps to her door and rang the bell. It swung open immediately and he barely had time to catch a glimpse of Emma’s pale face before she was in his arms, her own wrapping tightly around his neck as she buried her face in his shoulder. 

“Oh my God, Killian,” she whispered. “I was so worried.” 

“What?” His arms had come around her automatically and now his hand stroked her back soothingly as she began to tremble. “What’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong?” she snapped, pulling away and punching him in the arm. “What’s wrong? Haven’t you been watching the news? Why aren’t you answering your damn phone?” 

“I’ve been driving for the past eighteen hours!” he protested, rubbing his arm. “You know I always turn my phone off in the car. Safety—” 

“Don’t you dare say ‘safety first,’” she hissed. “Not when I’ve spent the past eighteen hours wondering if you were dead!” 

“Why would you wonder that?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, I—” 

“Look, would you come inside?” She grabbed his arm—the one she’d punched—and pulled him into the apartment. He barely had time to snag his suitcase and haul it in behind him before she’d slammed the door and locked it. 

“Go wash your hands,” she said. “I’ll be in the living room. Leave that!” She scowled as he reached for the suitcase handle again. “We’ll disinfect it later.” 

“Disinfect—” 

“Hands, Killian. Living room.” She turned on her heel and stalked away. 

Keep reading

another kind of green (9/10)

Emma Swan spends her days in pretty white dresses and heavy layers of makeup. Day after day and dress after dress, she poses for pictures and acts like she’s in love and having the happiest day of her life with the man standing next to her.

It’s not. This is all a gig, and at the end of the day, she’s no longer the girl in the pretty dress who’s faking getting married for a magazine cover or a wedding convention. Instead, she’s the girl who probably never wants to get married.

Little does she know, she already is.

Rating: mature

a/n: I know the world is crazy right now, so I hope you manage to find something, no matter how big or small, that brings you joy 💚 

ao3: beginning | current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

-/-

Damn.

Her neck is killing her. There’s definitely a crick or a pull or something there that wasn’t there when she fell asleep last night and…

Emma’s eyes quickly open, taking in the plates and cups and half-eaten cake that are all sitting on her coffee table. The sun is peeking through her curtains, and the bright light blinds her enough that she’s turning and twisting her head to the solid body next to her.

The solid body next to her.

What the actual hell?

When did she fall asleep? When did Killian fall asleep? Did he spend the night here? Did she have a lot to drink last night? No, no she didn’t. There was wine, but there wasn’t a lot. Maybe two glasses which was enough to have her buzzed. She’s been careful with how much she’s had to drink because she never wants to drink too much so that everything is a hazy, gap-filled memory.

She never wants to drink enough that she can’t remember getting freaking married.

Which is exactly why she remembers everything that happened last night. She remembers sharing things she hasn’t shared in a long time, and she remembers Killian sharing about his brother and his parents and Milah.

Oh shit.

Keep reading

no offense but if u just straight up drink milk then I will never listen to a word u say to me

This is so wholesome

Update: he finally got the cat to the vet to see if she had a microchip

I was already on board with his sweet wholesome open-to-love-and-nurturing heart but I was fully unprepared for getting to that last tweet and seeing how off the hook HOT dude is

https://twitter.com/pariszarcilla?lang=en heres his twitter is here there is also additonal cat photos of his children. 

CAT DAD IS BACK

aww, the kids grow up so fast. ;-;

HHHHHHHH I LOVE CAT DAD!

This is, by far, the single most adorable fucking thing I have ever seen. 

update:

I love that he kept …. All of them.

I’ve reblogged the earlier part of this thread before, and the new stuff makes it even better.

This is the Tumblr equivalent of a warm hug on a cold day.

You’re welcome.

I remember this thread, but I never saw the grown-up pics ❤

@every-n-anything

All hail Catdad

I saw Catdad for the first time today, and my day instantly became exponentially better.

I’M CRYING!?

CATDAD HAS REVIVED MY WILL TO LIVE

I live for cat dad-

Cat dad has saved us all

I absolutely needed this today. Thank you, universe, for bringing this thread back around

yessss new cat dad content

i never saw the grown up cats before I’m crying thank you a lot cat dad we love you and your babies

I feel bad for the guy. He just didn’t wanna be forgotten. Who does?

this happened today, in sardinia, italy. he’s playing imagine by john lennon. i’m crying. 🤍🕊

in order to lead a happy life im gonna have to disappoint my parents a bit

not to be dramatic but this post genuinely made me consider my priorities in life and the choices i need to make for my own wellbeing

Democratic centrists rallying together to defeat Bernie Sanders and take on Donald Trump is a really good plan that worked out really good last time.